


Dream Demon

by Minne_My



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dreams and Nightmares, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minne_My/pseuds/Minne_My
Summary: AU. Inspired by the episode 'Night of the Doctor'
Kudos: 1





	Dream Demon

_It wasn't dark as he thought death would be. It was red. Red sky, red rocks, the atmosphere swirled around like leftover dream dust. The dregs of dream that faded into obscurity before awakening. He looked up and there she was, his aunt Ohila. Dressed in a curious red robe and brass breastplate, she looked solemn and sorrowful, an expression he hated to see on her lively face. The one he'd observed when she'd sat him down and told him of his mother's death. His mother who would remain locked in a box in his mind. Over and over, her plane crashed in her mind and permeated his dreams. In it, he was a grown up, the man he was yet to become and the man she would never live to see. He learned her name the same way every time, as if he'd never heard it before. Her face was familiar but he was a stranger to her._

_This part of the dream never deviated from its chosen path. He could never save her, Cass. He could only watch as they plunged to their deaths, as if he was watching it from afar. He'd come round, be told that they'd both died and Ohila had been able to bring him back to life. Sometimes he asked why both of them couldn't survive but he could never remember the answer when he woke up. They'd argue, he'd drink something that she'd taken the liberty of preparing for him, something that altered him and after a brief struggle with himself, he woke up. The arguments changed over time, not that he could remember the details. He did remember the drink. It tasted of plain old lemonade. Ohila made it every summer and it was his favourite but he expected something a bit more mystical for his dream drink._

_He always woke up before his new face peered at him in the mirror._

As always, the bright light was not the end of him. It was daylight and auntie was knocking on his door.

'Sun's up.'

He sat up as she stuck her head around the door. Reliable, wise Ohila. He felt safe with her. She'd always been there for him. She was practically immortal.

'What, no newspaper, butler?' He said playfully.

'Idiot boy' she said affectionately. It had started when he was five. He'd broken the eggs when returning from the chicken coop and she called him that in exasperation. After he'd cried and she'd comforted him, he knew that whenever he'd heard it from her, it usually meant an endearment. Occasionally when she was angry with him, she spat it at him like poison. But he would have had to have done something incredibly stupid. Or dangerous. Or both, as was usually the case.

'No more cheek from you or you can make your own breakfast.'

He always felt older when he got up. Not like normal signs of ageing, he told Ohila once. It was a flash of chaotic energy and a fizz encircling his heart for a few seconds that he'd swear wasn't scientifically possible. She'd looked at him carefully and nodded. He wasn't comforted by the expression on her face, a closed off but curious gaze carved in stone. As if she was debating with herself about how much he knew what the dream meant. It never happened on his mother's birthday or death day. It just snuck in at random every so often. He wondered if Ohila had the same dream but he was afraid to ask. She never doubted that feeling though. She wasn't like other adults, sugar coating her words or avoiding topics. In the end she told him that she had used to have the same sensation when she was younger. Over time it had faded. She hadn't known if it was normal or not and wasn't sure if she missed it.

'Everyone lives several lifetimes, if they are lucky to live long enough' she said, looking out of the window over the rim of her mug. Looking without seeing. He knew she was thinking of Cass who had only managed to live a couple of lifetimes before her untimely death.

'Maybe it's to remind you of each lifetime. Maybe one day you'll wake up and it's gone. Then you can decide if you miss it or not.'

'What if it never goes away?'

Her expression was unreadable.

'Then be thankful that you're still alive.'

He couldn't argue with that.


End file.
